


we owe this world such tenderness

by crookedspoon



Series: Model AU [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Blow Jobs, Community: rarepair100, Fashion Designer Rufus Shinra, M/M, Model Sephiroth, Or More Like, POV Sephiroth, Secret Relationship, Sephiroth Has a Family, Tension, Vincent Valentine Is Sephiroth's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25135219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: "You never take your phone with you when you work. Something's up." Rufus eases his hands down by his sides, and the indiscriminate mask of the untouchable fashion mogul disappears from his features. "What's wrong, Seph?"Sephiroth exhales slowly through his nose. "It's nothing.""'Nothing' wouldn't have you this tense."
Relationships: Sephiroth/Rufus Shinra
Series: Model AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876840
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	we owe this world such tenderness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/gifts).



> Fills 075. "Sudden" at rarepair100.
> 
> Another instalment of the Model AU Neurotoxia and I are dabbling with. I already jumped the gun with two connected 500-word ficlets, which didn't turn out as expected because, well, it has become harder to contain my ideas in 500 words xD 
> 
> This is mainly just a fun AU where nobody dies and nothing hurts. It does, however, present the challenge of writing the characters without the traumas they faced in the Compilation and still making them vaguely recognisable. We did, for example, (spoiler!) give Sephiroth a loving family. *gasp* Scandalous, I know!

The knock at his suite door startles Sephiroth. He's not expecting room service or visitors, and Elena would not be picking him up for another half hour when the set would be ready. He could not have missed any text message informing him that they got it up to Rufus's specifications sooner. His eyes have practically been glued to the screen since the moment makeup and wardrobe were done with him.

Usually, he keeps his cell phone locked in his hotel room safe – not because he distrusts any of the crew, but because he considers it unprofessional to be carrying it around during a shoot. Today, however, he's unable to follow his own rules.

Another knock, more insistent this time.

"It's me," a soft voice comes from the other side.

"Rufus?" Sephiroth places his phone on the dresser and cracks the door open. "Can I help you?"

Rufus sweeps into the room without waiting for an invitation, and if Sephiroth hadn't jumped aside in time, he might have been knocked over. Or at least stubbed a toe.

"Is something the matter?" he asks carefully as he closes the door again.

"That's what I would like to know." Rufus sizes him up shrewdly from the corner of his eyes. Likely appraising how well the morning robe looks on Sephiroth. Rufus himself is dapper in his charcoal shirt and vest ensemble, having doffed his signature coat and jacket.

"Care to elaborate?" Sephiroth gestures for Rufus to sit on one of the richly embroidered armchairs by the floor-to-ceiling windows, but Rufus waves him off.

With his back straight and his hands clasped at his back, Rufus snaps around to face Sephiroth directly. On another person, the motion would have been brusque to the point of ungainly but on Rufus it has a certain fluidity to it. Sephiroth admires his poise. It suggests control, but also refinement. It's something he picked up as a young cadet in the military school his father forced him into – yet instead of shaking the habit as so many others did the second the wretched gates closed behind them for the last time, Rufus had embraced it and made it his own.

"You left the set," Rufus states simply and Sephiroth jerks back to the present. It's not like him to be this inattentive. It's bordering on rude.

"I was told it would be a while."

"You were on your phone when you left."

"Your point being?"

"You never take your phone with you when you work. Something's up." Rufus eases his hands down by his sides, and the indiscriminate mask of the untouchable fashion mogul disappears from his features. "What's wrong, Seph?"

Sephiroth exhales slowly through his nose. "It's nothing."

"'Nothing' wouldn't have you this tense."

"No, really. It's nothing."

Only that Yazoo has been texting him all night, updating him on the latest developments of Grandpa Grimoire's sudden fall and subsequent hospitalisation. They got the green light from the doctors only this morning, saying that there's nothing to worry about.

"I don't say this lightly, but I can't let you go in front of the camera like this."

Sephiroth finds Rufus's gaze and holds it evenly. "You don't trust me to do this right?"

"Not the way you are now." The corners of Rufus's mouth pinch. He didn't like saying it any more than Sephiroth liked hearing it. 

On a normal day, Sephiroth would have drawn himself up to his full height and given Rufus a piece of his mind for the insult to his professional integrity. Today, however, he is exhausted and not just from the lack of sleep.

"It's my grandfather," he confesses and sinks down into one of the armchairs.

Rufus takes the other, leaning forward and listening intently. 

"He had a bad health scare," Sephiroth continues and apparently he's in such a state that he can't seem to stop wringing his hands. "It was nothing serious, but... I realised it's been months since I last saw him. He's not getting any younger and yet I never make time to go and visit."

Rufus's hand is warm when it alights on his knee, its presence comforting. 

"Do you want to reschedule?" he asks.

Before Rufus had shown up, Sephiroth had been on the phone with his parents. They reassured him there was no need for him to drop everything and fly all the way out to the West Continent to be with them. Grandpa is over the worst of it and Sephiroth could still visit once his engagements in Midgar are over.

He shakes his head. He wouldn't feel right if he left the shoot now after everyone had already put so much effort into it. That is not how he wants to turn up on his parents' doorstep. (Kadaj gleefully confided that Yazoo was 'in so much trouble' for live texting the entire event: mom and dad didn't want Sephiroth to worry until they knew more, as there was nothing he could have done from miles away.) He could, however, still cancel everything tomorrow.

"Do you... do you need a hug?" Rufus asks and scoots forward in his seat, ready to spring into action. He can be adorably awkward at times, especially when it comes to dealing with emotions.

Sephiroth breaks out into a smile and takes Rufus's hand into his own. "It's sweet of you to offer, but I won't put you through that."

Kissing Sephiroth's knuckles, Rufus sinks to his knees in front of him. "It's a small price to pay for your happiness."

"Or myself, for that matter," Sephiroth says after a pause and pokes Rufus on the nose. "Your hugs leave much to be desired."

"Desire, huh?"

"Of course that would be your takeaway."

"Well, I'm not letting you anywhere near a lens as long as you look like that – makeup may have done an adequate job freshening up your face, but your posture radiates exhaustion. It's atrocious."

"Your flattery has my heart aflutter," Sephiroth says dryly.

"I expect nothing less than perfection from you."

Of course he does. It's not like Sephiroth expects any less of himself. "So what are you suggesting?"

"If we had more time at our disposal, I'd suggest a bath, a nap, and a massage, in whatever order you prefer. But since we don't, I was thinking of a quicker solution to help you relax."

Rufus brushes his palms up Sephiroth's naked thighs, beneath his robe. Sephiroth shivers. Rufus's garments are an exercise in seduction, the fall of fabric a caress that engages the senses: this one in particular is a whisper of sin so reminiscent of Rufus's touch that Sephiroth has been breaking out into goose bumps all morning.

It's the kind of air of expectation that this collection is meant to convey, as well as the fulfillment of that expectation. The theme of this garment is 'morning after' and Sephiroth's first shoot is supposed to reflect that: spine liquid, gaze unfocused and lids almost falling shut, lips parting at the top of a sigh, giving off the impression as though he may or not have indulged in carnal delights only moments before.

The very thing that is on offer right now.

"Rufus..."

Sephiroth runs his fingers over Rufus's pale blond hair. This is not something they do, this close to their place of work. They are both intensely private people who have gone to great lengths to keep any personal information out of the public eye. Such as the existence of their relationship.

For years they have subsisted on nothing more than stolen touches and drunken bouts of lovemaking at the close of a collection. The more they work, the fewer opportunities present themselves for them to see and be with each other. Yet despite their best efforts, the speculation surrounding the nature of their relationship has persisted.

Allowing Rufus to fellate him here, mere minutes before he has to appear on set, is tantamount to exhibitionism. It's a level of openness they have shied away from in the past. And yet, he yearns for Rufus to help him shift his focus away from his worries.

His spine is tingling. Rufus's usually so clear-eyed gaze is clouded with want, his reverent fingers restless at the seam of Sephiroth's briefs, waiting to gain admittance.

Sephiroth takes pity on him (or maybe on himself); keeping up their game of denial seems sort of silly now when all he wants is some physical comfort. He'd prefer taking Rufus to bed, but it's as he said. They are short on time.

He bends down to place a gentle kiss on Rufus's lips, gathers his hair over one shoulder, and settles back into the armchair. Rufus's gaze follows him, hawkish and hungry, before he curls his fingers over the waistband of his briefs. They have been growing tighter since the start of their conversation, so peeling them over engorged erection is no small feat.

Once they're out of the way, Rufus throws them over his shoulder. Sephiroth would need a fresh pair anyway.

Although they both agree that the clock is ticking, Rufus rushes nothing. His fingers skim the tops of Sephiroth's thighs and his lips follow the trail. Sephiroth is already worked up by the time Rufus's nose brushes against the underside of his organ. When Rufus flicks his eyes up, they have darkened from a clouded blue to a stormy grey, or so Sephiroth's own swimming vision makes him believe.

Rufus keeps their eyes locked as he goes down on him, no doubt more for the visual it would provide Sephiroth with than to track his reactions.

His tongue is hot, almost searing, but it has nothing on his mouth when it finally engulfs him. Sephiroth moans, startlingly loud even to his own ears. He must be more exhausted than he'd realised if he doesn't have himself in check like this. Rufus always manages to draw the tension right out of him.

He lets his head thud back against the armchair, lets Rufus set the pace. Rufus keeps his mouth soft and barely applies any suction at all, even when he swallows. Sephiroth finds himself surrendering to that warmth. It rolls over him like waves, and when it recedes, it draws some of the tension out with it. His muscles cease their twitching and relax, almost to the point of liquefying.

Pleasure thrums through him, in time with his heartbeat, but with the measured pace Rufus is keeping, there is no point in straining for it. The payoff will be that much greater if he just lets it happen.

And so it is. His orgasm seemingly builds for hours. Rufus coaxes him toward it with his mouth alone; his hands are resting just above Sephiroth's knees. Sephiroth feels like he's boneless and floating. 

He finally crests that peak with a sigh and a slight tremor in his hips. His head is quiet, serenely so, save for his heavy breathing and the blood rushing through his ears.

Rufus stays on his knees for a few moments longer, swallowing around him. He's adamant about keeping his garments as pristine as possible for as long as he can. He once even remarked that he would rather choke than spill semen on one.

Sephiroth did not doubt him.

He smiles fondly and brushes Rufus's bangs out of his eyes. Now and then his ribs contract with the threat of a chuckle. The memory must be tickling his funny bone, but Rufus wouldn't appreciate him laughing about it.

Rufus settles back on his heels and dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket. Apart from his slightly deeper breathing you wouldn't know what he had been up to just now. 

Sephiroth can do nothing more than gaze down at him, mesmerised and longing. He would love to take him somewhere far away from other people, where no paparazzi would be lying in wait, where they could simply be with each other, without walls raised high between them.

"There it is," Rufus says and his eyes crinkle at the corners, his mouth still partially hidden by the handkerchief. 

Sephiroth blinks languidly. "What is?"

Stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket, Rufus reaches out with his other hand to touch Sephiroth's face.

"That's exactly the look I want."

Sephiroth blinks again, his smile growing wider, more mischievous. "And you thought I couldn't do it."

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Rufus pulls himself up until he is almost nose-to-nose with Sephiroth. "You would have been hard-pressed if I hadn't stepped in."

"That was very selfless of you." Sephiroth nods, his eyes glued to Rufus's shapely lips.

"Oh, it was very selfish, I assure you."

Grinning, Rufus surges forward to kiss him.

* * *

Sephiroth feels like an entirely new person by the time he's ready to go out. There's a weight off his shoulders, knowing that he doesn't have to choose between his job and his family. Knowing that Rufus would support him whatever he decides, even if that decision would ultimately hurt SHINRA.

He walks over to Rufus to get his last fix of him before they have to return to their professionally distant roles. Elena just texted him that the set is ready and that she would be coming to pick him up. He intends to walk toward her, both to save some time and to spare her the awkwardness of running into her boss in Sephiroth's suite. As Rufus's PA, she's aware of their relationship (and legally bound to silence about it, which is a nice perk), yet being aware of a thing does not mean you want to confront it.

"Do you... want to stay over tonight?" Rufus asks as he touches Sephiroth's forearm. "Dark Nation continues to scout the elevator as if he expects another person to step out of it – he seems almost disappointed when it's only me. I guess I'm not interesting enough on my own anymore."

"You do have to admit we seem to make more headlines together than we do apart."

"I think he misses you."

"I miss him, too."

Rufus doesn't let on, but it must rankle that his beloved dog cares more about his owner's boyfriend than about his owner himself. Or maybe they're on the same side.

"So that means you won't be coming?" Rufus asks again.

"That depends. Is he the only one who misses me?"

"Would I ask you if he were?"

"You would, if it served your agenda." Sephiroth laughs.

It's funny how in sync they sometimes seem to be. Just when he thinks about whisking away Rufus to some private place, Rufus would ask him over. He's not too fond of the sneaking around it usually involves – in Midgar, everyone knows his face – but tonight he really could use the companionship. If he does indeed decide to cancel his plans and visit his family, they might not see each other for a while.

"But to answer your question: I would love that. Can't disappoint Dark Nation forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Speculative Realism" by Bradley Trumpfheller.


End file.
